Don't You Run
by race-the-ace
Summary: *SLASH* Bruce/OMC Bruce makes a friend who turns into a lover.
1. Chapter 1

**Don't You Run**

_And now for something completely different…_

**Fandom**: Batman Begins**  
Pairing**: Bruce Wayne (Batman)/OMC**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own anything you recognize. Batman belongs to DC Comics and _Batman Begins _belongs to Warner Bros.**  
Author's Notes**:  
- I played hard and fast with _Batman Begins_, so some things might not be canon.  
- Does not acknowledge _Dark Knight_ or the last scene of _Batman Begins _(no Joker).  
- I have no experience with Batman other than watching most of _Batman Begins _about ten times. Oh and _Batman and Robin_.  
- Title comes from "Little House" by Amanda Seyfried.

* * *

Bruce sighed and set his newspaper aside. He rubbed the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. Thunder clapped outside and a moment later he saw a flash of lightening through the window of his study.

It had taken almost a year to rebuild his parents' house. Part of it still wasn't finished; work crews littered the west wing during the day. It had been hard having people around. Bruce was at Wayne Enterprises in the morning and he was still going out at night, on top of spending his early evenings setting up the newly built Batcave. Simply put, he'd been exhausted for the past year.

"Coffee, Master Wayne?"

Bruce opened his eyes and turned his head to see Alfred approaching with a silver tray. There was a small carafe of coffee, a mug, and a muffin.

"That sounds wonderful, Alfred, thank you."

Alfred set the tray down next to the abandoned newspaper. "Long night last night, sir?" He asked, as he poured the coffee.

Bruce sighed. "Too long. I swear, Alfred… no matter how much I do for this city, I feel like every time I turn around, there's some one else who needs saving, something else that needs doing."

"It _is_ a never ending job, sir." He handed Bruce the mug full of coffee. Bruce accepted the cup and inhaled the steam. "And someone has to do it," he added lightly.

"Yes," Bruce agreed quietly. "Someone has to do it." He took a sip of his coffee, wincing at the heat. In the background he could hear doors opening and ladders being set up. "How many more days until they're gone?"

"Seventeen, sir," Alfred answered cheerily. "We shall have to hold a private celebration once their absence is permanent."

"If that means party, then I'm all for that," Bruce said. He took a longer sip of the hot beverage this time.

"Indeed, sir. Might I be of any more assistance to you?"

Bruce shook his head. "I'm good, thanks."

"Not a problem, Master Wayne. I shall leave you to your reading, sir."

Alfred quietly slipped out and Bruce turned his head to stare out the window. It was Saturday morning and the work crews would start soon, if they hadn't already. Rain poured down outside and it was still so dark with heavy clouds in the sky.

He sighed and thought of Rachel. He wondered if the Bruce she loved even still existed. If he had ever existed. Bruce hadn't been that young, innocent boy she'd known in a long time.

Bruce felt older than his thirty-two years said he should feel. He was tired and just a little bit lonely. Alfred was great to come home to, but he didn't truly understand the drive that Bruce had. The drive to do what was right and to help the world, one person at a time if that's what it took.

The thunder clapped outside and Bruce saw lightening. It lit up the gloomy sky and Bruce wished he could just roll back into bed under his soft, warm blankets. But he had some papers to sign at Wayne Enterprises and according to his secretary, they had to be signed _today_.

By the time Bruce made it to the door, Alfred was waiting for him with an umbrella and a long rain coat. Bruce offered a half-smile as he slipped the coat on and pocketed the umbrella. Alfred had offered to drive him, but Bruce felt better about having unknown people in his house if someone he trusted was there to watch them. Which really just meant Alfred.

"The Mercedes today, sir?" Alfred asked.

Bruce's gaze drifted over to the black Mercedes in his garage. It was one of several cars, and while Bruce didn't necessarily need that many cars, it was expected of him, and thus he had a garage full of cars that were barely ever driven.

"Sure, why not?" Bruce agreed.

Alfred handed him the keys and wished him safe driving while promising to have hot coffee waiting for him when he returned. Bruce nodded and slid easily into his car. It still smelt new.

The only good thing about how much rain there was, was crime went down. No one wanted to be out in this weather, not even hoodlums. So Bruce got a couple more hours of sleep each night.

The streets were all but deserted as Bruce drove to his office. There were a few cars on the road, but most of Gotham's residents, it seemed, had decided to stay in; just as Bruce would do once he signed those papers.

Once he arrived, it went quicker than Bruce could have hoped for. His secretary had been waiting in the lobby for him and Bruce had scribbled out his name a few times and that had been that. He never even took off his jacket.

If possible it was raining even harder when Bruce began the drive back home. There was so much rain that he could barely see, his wipers could barely keep up.

Bruce was stopped at a stop light when he saw a figure walk past his car. Bruce stared in disbelief as the person, Bruce was guessing a man but it was hard to tell, walked slowly in the rain without a jacket, and, Bruce was pretty sure, without shoes. Bruce thought about the coffee waiting for him at home, and the way he couldn't even count how many jackets or pairs of shoes he had.

Bruce felt inexplicably guilty for everything he had as he drove past the man. He didn't get far though, as the part of him that wore the costume each night protested at leaving a man in need of help. So Bruce pulled over and waited for the figure to reach his car.

The man was about to walk right past him when Bruce rolled down his window. He wasn't sure what the hell he was going to say, but he hoped it didn't come out as a solicitation. That was the last thing he needed.

"Can I give you a ride?" Bruce shouted, trying to be heard over the rain and thunder.

The figure stopped immediately and looked around, as if Bruce was talking to someone else walking in the rain who needed a ride. The person, a man Bruce now knew for sure, looked hesitant and then shook his head.

Bruce leaned over into the passenger seat. "Are you sure, man? It's gotta be freezing out there. It's no problem, really."

The man laughed and while Bruce couldn't hear it, he knew without a doubt that it hadn't been a laugh born of happiness. The stranger smiled sadly and shook his head again.

A strong gust of wind blew in and Bruce's leather seats were getting soaked with water, but Bruce was determined not to give up. "Look, I don't want anything in return, it's just a ride. I'm just trying to help. It's cold and windy and you look like you're about half-frozen, let me drive you to where you need to be."

The man finally walked a little closer to the car, close enough that if Bruce opened the passenger door, it would hit him. Sad blue eyes met Bruce's and the man said, just loud enough for Bruce to hear him, "Thanks, dude, but I've got nowhere to go."

"Nowhere?" Bruce frowned. "You were headed somewhere."

The man nodded. "To the bridge a few miles away."

Bruce opened his mouth to offer to drive the guy there when it hit him. He knew that bridge, it was infamously called the Death Bridge because of how many people jumped off of it, killing themselves. And Bruce suddenly knew, without a doubt, that's what this man was going to go do.

Bruce swallowed. "I have a guest room and coffee waiting back home, you're welcome to stay for the night."

The guy blinked in surprise and curiosity stretched across his features. "You don't even know me, why are you doing this?"

Bruce shrugged. "Helping people is a hobby of mine."

"That's some hobby."

Bruce stretched across to open the passenger door. The man stepped back and pulled it open the rest of the way. He hesitated when he saw the inside of Bruce's car.

"I don't want to get it wet."

"It'll dry," Bruce assured him.

The man slowly slid in and Bruce rolled the window back up while his passenger shut the door and buckled his seat belt. Now that Bruce was closer, he could see that the man wasn't nearly as old as Bruce had thought he was. He was in his early twenties, maybe, if Bruce were being generous.

Bruce held out his hand. "Bruce."

"Charlie," the stranger said in reply. He shook Bruce's hand, grip soft. His voice was much quieter now, and Bruce suspected that it was normally very soft.

"Nice to meet you," Bruce said as he peeled away from the curb.

"You too," Charlie replied quietly.

The drive back was quiet and Bruce fought the urge to glance at his passenger every few minutes. Charlie seemed nervous enough, he didn't need Bruce staring at him, adding to it.

Charlie's eyes widened when he saw how many cars were in Bruce's garage. Alfred met him at the door, and not for the first time did Bruce wonder exactly how Alfred always knew he was home.

Alfred accepted Bruce's wet jacket as he asked, "Who's your friend, Master Wayne?"

Charlie was hiding mostly behind Bruce, hands deep in his pockets, and dripping all over the floor.

"This is Charlie. Charlie, this is Alfred. He's spending the night," Bruce added in Alfred's direction.

"I shall prepare a guest room for him then, sir." Alfred looked the young man up and down. "And perhaps a change of clothes."

"You don't need to do that," Charlie whispered even as he dripped all over the garage floor. Alfred gave him a humorous look and then left them. Bruce was sure that he'd been back in a few minutes with fresh clothes.

"Here," Bruce opened the door next to the main house entrance. "Alfred insisted on putting a bathroom in here so that I could wash up before coming inside if I'm working on the cars." He flipped the light switch. "There's a shower and towels, you're welcome to both."

Charlie nodded slowly. "Why are you doing this?"

"Like I said, helping people is a hobby of mine," Bruce answered with a smile and a shrug. "Take a shower, warm up, then there's coffee - and food - I promise."

Bruce turned to head into the house when he felt Charlie lightly brush a hand against his arm. "Thank you." It was warm and honest and blue eyes went straight to Bruce's core.

"You're welcome."

Bruce left the door to the house open and looked back in time to see Charlie disappear into the bathroom. When he turned around again, Alfred was there with a set of clothes in his arms.

"Is Bruce Wayne saving the world now, sir?" He asked.

"Not the world, Alfred, but maybe one man," Bruce said.

"Why him, sir?"

"Because…" Bruce glanced at the closed bathroom door again. "Because I have a house full of rooms and a closet full of shoes and he has nowhere to go and nothing on his feet."

"I see, sir." Alfred paused and Bruce met his gaze. "Shall I take he will be staying for breakfast then, as well?"

Bruce laughed softly. "Yeah, he'll be staying for breakfast as well."

"Very good, sir."

"Are you okay with him staying here, Alfred?" Bruce asked. "He could try to kill us in our sleep."

"I'd like to see him try, Master Bruce. By the looks of him, that young man wouldn't be able to best a fly."

"He was rather skinny."

"Quite, sir." Bruce heard the shower start and Alfred moved around him to place the clothes he was holding in front of the closed door. "Shall I make an early lunch then, sir?"

"Yes, please, Alfred. Lunch sounds good."

Alfred paused at the doorway to the house. "You're sure of this, sir?"

Bruce thought of Charlie, shivering in the rain, barefoot and hopeless. "Yes. Very sure."

Alfred offered his shoulder a slight pat as he passed him and moved into the house. It felt good to be helping someone as Bruce Wayne, someone who wasn't faceless and nameless and only saw Batman.

Bruce would be cautious, but deep down he was hoping that something would come of this. He hoped that maybe he and Charlie could become friends. Maybe he was wishing for too much, maybe Charlie wouldn't like him, or wouldn't stay, but Bruce was willing to make the effort. It had been a long time since he'd had a friend.


	2. Chapter 2

**Don't You Run**

_Chapter 2_

**Author's Notes**:

- Thank you to everyone who's taken time to review, it's been really encouraging! =)

* * *

When Charlie emerged from the bathroom, the first thing Bruce noticed was Charlie's bright blond hair. In the rain it had looked much darker than it was, and the blonde suited Charlie. His hair reminded Bruce of the sun, and Charlie's blue eyes reminded Bruce of a never-ending blue sky.

Dressed in Bruce's too-big clothes, Charlie looked even smaller than Bruce had previously thought. And even younger.

"Um…" Bruce trailed off. There really was no polite way to ask someone their age.

Charlie ran a hand nervously through his hair. "I'm twenty-six."

Bruce blinked. "Excuse me?"

"That _is_ what you wanted to know, right?" Charlie asked, unsure. "That's what most people want to know. I know I look a lot younger than I am."

Charlie looked about eighteen, and his slight stature wasn't doing anything to belie that look.

"I see," Bruce murmured. "I'm thirty-two."

Charlie bit his lip. "I know."

An eyebrow went up. "You do?"

"You, um… you _are_ kind of famous, dude," Charlie said quietly.

Bruce nodded. "Yes, of course." He paused and led Charlie into the house. Bruce watched in curiosity as Charlie didn't look anywhere but at Bruce. Most people tended to stare at the large mansion for a few minutes before remembering that they were at somebody's house. "Alfred is putting together some lunch."

Charlie shoved his hands into the pockets of Bruce's jeans and silently followed Bruce to the kitchen.

Alfred looked up as they arrived. "Ah, Master Wayne, just in time. And I forgot to ask before… are you allergic to anything, Mr…"

Charlie shifted uncomfortably. "Taylor," he answered. "Charlie Taylor."

"Mr. Taylor?" Alfred finished with a smile.

"Seafood," Charlie answered. "And, um, nuts. Oh, and fake sugar… apples… citrus…"

"Anything else, sir?" Alfred asked patiently.

Charlie blinked. "Um…."

"I shall take that as a yes," said Alfred steeply. "What _can_ you eat, Master Taylor?"

"Salad?" Charlie offered weakly.

"Ah, I see, sir. You and I will have to have a talk before dinner."

Charlie glanced at Bruce, who offered what he hoped was a reassuring nod. "Okay."

"I shall make Mr. Taylor a salad and bring it to you in the dining room, sir, unless you would prefer to dine elsewhere?" Alfred asked.

"The dining room's fine, Alfred."

"Very well, sir. I won't be but five more minutes."

Bruce nodded. "We'll get out of your hair. Want the nickel tour?" Bruce asked Charlie. Charlie shrugged helplessly and Bruce led him out of the room. "So, there's not much to see at the moment. You may or may not have heard that the house burnt down last year…?" At Charlie's nod, Bruce continued, "It's still in the process of being re-built. You can probably hear some of the construction people working… they won't be here for much longer. When they finish, we'll have to go around and sort of re-decorate, I know it's kind of sparse."

Sparse wasn't exactly the right word for it. It was empty, barren. There wasn't a picture on the wall, nor a book on a shelf. Most new decorations had been purchased but Bruce had been too busy to sit down with Alfred and decide where everything should go. So, for now, it was all in a large gathering room off of the main foyer.

"This is the ballroom," Bruce said, pushing open a door. Charlie stepped in behind him as Bruce turned the lights on. "It's where the parties that Alfred makes me have are held. It looks better with people in it."

"It's… really big," Charlie commented quietly.

"Yeah." Bruce glanced about. "Anyway, moving on…" Charlie followed him back out of the room and down the hall. "This is the library. It's… empty right now, but we have books ready to go in it, we just haven't gotten around to putting them out yet." He opened the door to the room and Charlie stuck his head in.

"It smells like a library," Charlie commented.

Bruce blinked and then laughed. "Okay."

He wandered around the mansion, showing various rooms off to Charlie. They ended in the room that Charlie would be staying in, it was a guest room down the hall from Bruce's room.

"You'll be the first one to sleep in it," Bruce added, as he watched Charlie walk around the room.

Charlie sat down heavily on the bed and swirled his finger over the new blankets. "This is… nice," he choked out. "Your home is beautiful."

Bruce stepped closer to the bed. "Thank you, although I can't really take much credit for it, Alfred does all the hard work."

"I…" Charlie sniffed and turned away from Bruce.

"You, what?" Bruce asked gently. He slowly walked over and sat near Charlie on the bed.

"I thought I would be dead by now," Charlie whispered. "I would have been, if it wasn't for you."

"Are you angry that you're not?" Bruce asked softly

"There's always tomorrow," Charlie answered with a small sigh.

"Maybe tomorrow you'll wake up and feel different."

"I've felt this way for a long time," Charlie whispered in response.

"Well, then maybe the right person hasn't tried to talk you out of it," Bruce stated.

Charlie let out a sad laugh and his bright, blue eyes met Bruce's. "It's kind of you to assume that someone else _has_ tried to talk me out of it, but no one else exists."

Bruce swallowed. "Then, I think it's only fair that you let _me _try and talk you out of it."

"Why would you do that?"

Bruce shrugged. "Why not?"

* * *

"This is quite an extensive list of allergies, sir," Alfred said, looking over Charlie's list.

Bruce nodded. "Yeah, the kid's allergic to everything. It's a wonder he's still breathing."

"His allergies extend beyond food?"

"Yeah. Lots of animals and just random stuff," Bruce answered.

"I imagine, then, sir, that he leads a somewhat limited lifestyle."

Bruce nodded. "I think, in the past, people have found him to be high maintenance, so he doesn't even try to make friends anymore."

"I see, Master Wayne. How unfortunate. Well, I will give the list to the cook, and make sure that she's aware of _all_ of our young friend's allergies."

"That'd be great, thank you, Alfred."

"It's not a problem, sir." Alfred paused. "And if I may ask… where is young Master Taylor, now?"

"He's taking a nap. I told him I'd call him for dinner. I have some work to do, anyway."

Alfred nodded. "Very good, sir."

"I'll be in my study," Bruce said.

"I will call you both when the meal is ready."

"Thanks."

Bruce slowly made his way back to his office. He stopped next to a large window to gaze out at the still-raging storm. It didn't look like it was going to let up, anytime soon. Bruce shivered suddenly as thunder clapped outside. He thought back to his earlier conversation with Charlie.

He wasn't sure that Charlie wanted to die, in fact, Bruce was pretty sure that the other man was just tired of being alone, tired of being misunderstood. He could see it in Charlie's eyes when they'd talked. Bruce saw it in his own every morning. He sighed and kept walking toward his office.

If the rain kept on as it was, it would be a long night for Batman.


	3. Chapter 3

**Don't You Run**

_Chapter 3_

**Author's Notes**:  
- Sorry this took so long to get out, my writing just started to pile up.  
- Quotes belong to Ralph Waldo Emerson.

* * *

"Alfred!" Bruce hollered. He poked his head into another room, and finding it empty, backed up and moved on.

"Yes, sir?"

Bruce felt his heart skip a beat as he turned to find Alfred standing right next to him. "Don't do that!"

There was an innocent look on Alfred face as he asked, "Do what, sir?'

Bruce sighed and shook his head. "Have you seen Charlie?"

"I do believe that Master Taylor is in the library, sir," Alfred informed him smoothly. "Do you require his presence?"

"The library? Isn't it empty?"

"While you have been at work, sir, he has taken it upon himself to help decorate the manor. I do believe he has made significant progress in the library and the great sitting room."

"Oh," Bruce scratched the back of his head lightly. "Thanks. I'll go look for him there."

Alfred inclined his head. "You're welcome."

So Bruce set off for the library. When he found it, he looked around in amazement. It looked much better than the last time he'd seen it. It had books, for one.

Charlie was carefully balanced on a ladder, holding books in one arm and placing them on shelves with the other.

"You really don't have to do that, you know," Bruce said, coming to stand at the foot of the ladder.

Charlie jumped in surprise and a book fell from his bands. Bruce caught it easily.

"It, uh, gives me something to do," Charlie said. "Earn my keep."

Bruce snorted. "You don't have to earn your keep. You're a guest."

"I've been here for a week, Bruce," Charlie pointed out. "I've imposed enough on you and Alfred."

Bruce sighed. They'd been having this argument since practically day one. "It's not an imposition. I have more money that anyone should ever have, so it's not as if you're driving me out of house and home with the tiny bit of food you eat."

"I use water too," Charlie said, putting the last book he was holding on the shelves. He slowly climbed back down the ladder and Bruce held the bottom steady. "When I shower."

When he was close enough, Bruce reached a hand out and ruffled Charlie's hair. "You could shower all day, and I still wouldn't care."

"And you've bought me clothes," Charlie said, jumping down from the ladder. "And shoes."

"You needed some."

Charlie looked up at Bruce, from underneath his bangs. "And you care."

"You don't have to pay me back for caring," Bruce said quietly. "Not ever."

"It's been a long time since someone's cared," Charlie whispered, looking away.

Bruce reached a hesitant hand out and touched Charlie's elbow. That was all it took for the younger man to turn and bury his face in Bruce's shoulder. Bruce awkwardly hugged him and didn't let go until Charlie pulled back, eyes suspiciously red.

"Sorry for always breaking down on you, Bruce," Charlie mumbled. "You work all day and then come home to me…"

"Hey," Bruce said gently. "It's nice having someone to come home to who didn't use to change my diapers. I love Alfred, but he's not really a 'let's hang out' kind of guy."

Charlie smiled a little. "I guess he's not."

"He told me you guys have been playing chess," Bruce prompted. "In the mornings."

"I'm really bad at it," Charlie said. "I love every time."

"You'll get better," Bruce promised. "I can show you some moves after dinner if you want."

"Moves? There are chess moves?" Charlie wrinkled his forehead. "I thought there were just… the normal things. Pawn goes straight, except when killing… rook goes sideways or forward and backward…"

Bruce laughed softly. "There's definitely a strategy to chess, if you're so inclined to learn it."

"Strategic chess," Charlie mused. "Sounds boring."

"It is," Bruce told him with a grin. "But don't tell that to Alfred."

"How about a movie instead?" Charlie asked.

Bruce quickly calculated when dinner would end and added an hour and a half to that. It would be later than he normally went out for the night, but not by much. "Sure."

"We won't watch a long one," Charlie said. "I know you like to go to bed early."

"They frown on it when I fall asleep at the office," Bruce joked lightly. "My secretary pokes me hard, to make sure I'm not dead."

"What do you do there all day?" Charlie asked. He gathered some more of the books out of a box and Bruce held the ladder as Charlie skillfully climbed back up.

"Meetings," Bruce said. "And more meetings. And then even more meetings."

"_How much of human life is lost in waiting?_" Charlie quoted softly.

Bruce startled. "You read Emerson?"

Charlie shrugged. "Read it in college."

Bruce filed that little tidbit away. Charlie didn't speak much of his past, and Bruce honestly hadn't been sure he'd even graduated from high school, much less gone to college. He'd suspected some form of higher education, based on the way Charlie talked and some of the things he had said, but Bruce had never been sure. "I think everyone would benefit from some Emerson," Bruce said. "He had a lot of good things to say."

"_A hero is no braver than an ordinary man, but he is braver five minutes longer_," Charlie quoted again. "That's always been one of my favorites."

"Mine, too," Bruce said softly. He'd always thought himself ordinary, and Batman brave.

Charlie slid back down the ladder and started digging through another box of books. "Did you have to buy all new ones after the fire?"

"Yeah," Bruce said. "We had a few in storage that we moved here, but that was it."

"Wow. That's… a lot of money. You know you could get these digitally now. On like a _Nook_ or something. Then you don't have to worry about them getting destroyed again."

Bruce shrugged. "Then what would I do with the library?"

"You could keep a couple of e-readers in here with some books on them and you could just read off of those. It's a nice reading space," Charlie said, gesturing towards the windows. "When the sun's out, I bet it lights up well."

"I've always enjoyed it," Bruce remarked.

"Bruce?"

"Hmm?"

"Thank you. For everything," Charlie said with a soft touch to Bruce's shoulder.

"You're welcome," Bruce answered.

Charlie smiled and Bruce couldn't help but smile back.


	4. Chapter 4

**Don't You Run**

_Chapter 4_

* * *

Charlie seemed to take Bruce's words as consent to fix up the rest of the manor. Everyday Bruce came home to something new in its place-pictures on the wall, books on shelves, clocks with correct time. Bruce tried to talk him out of it, more than once, but Charlie shrugged him off. Alfred said it gave the younger man a sense of purpose, and it probably did. It's not like Bruce doesn't know anything about needing a purpose.

The longer Charlie stayed, though, the harder it became to hide what he did at night. Alfred would report back that Charlie tried to find him or knocked on his door, and really there's only so many times they can use the _he sleeps like the dead _excuse.

For the first time in a long time Bruce found himself wanting to tell someone his secret, but one look at Charlie and Bruce knew-he wasn't ready. Charlie already had so much weight on his shoulders that Bruce couldn't add to it, not willingly. He still wasn't sure what had drive Charlie to that bridge and until he did, until Charlie started smiling again, Bruce would keep Batman to himself.

Sixteen days after Charlie arrived, the construction crews were clearing out. Bruce couldn't have been happier to see them leave. Now it was just him, Alfred, and Charlie. Bruce was looking forward to some peace and quiet in his own home.

"Hey," Bruce said.

Charlie looked down from the ladder he was on, a picture in his hands. "Hey, Bruce."

"Steaks tonight," Bruce said. "The work crews are finally gone."

Charlie offered him a half-smile. "Sounds good."

Bruce glanced around the room they were in, one of the many guest rooms, he wasn't sure he remembered ordering all of the furniture for it and figured Alfred had, or maybe even Charlie. The room looked nice though-modern. Less stuffy than they had looked before. "When did all this arrive?"

"Yesterday," Charlie told him, going back to hanging the picture up. "I, uh, Alfred said I could pick some stuff out for the guest rooms, I hope you don't mind."

"Nope," Bruce said with a shake of his head. "Looks good."

"Is it straight?" Charlie asked.

Bruce glanced up at the picture, a photograph of a sunset over the ocean-common but beautiful. "A little to the left," he said.

Charlie tapped the frame lightly. "Now?"

"Perfect," Bruce told him. He held the bottom of the ladder while Charlie climbed down a few steps.

Charlie glanced at him shyly and then pulled him into a quick hug. "Welcome home," he whispered.

Bruce smiled. "Thanks."

-0-

After dinner, and lots of cheesecake, Bruce made sure Charlie was sleeping before he headed down to the batcave. Alfred was quiet as he helped Bruce dress.

"The rooms look nice," Bruce finally said, breaking the silence.

"Young Master Taylor decorated them, sir. I had very little to do with it."

"Which I'm sure you're happy about," Bruce grinned.

"I confess to being somewhat relieved, sir," Alfred agreed. "He seemed to take to it quite well."

"Maybe that's what he did before-decorated things. People do that, right?"

"Interior decorating is a fine profession, Master Bruce," Alfred said, only somewhat reprehensive. "I believe, at the very least, he was an artist of some sort."

"Hmm," Bruce mused. "I'll see if I can get it out of him tomorrow. And I'll see if he wants to pick another room for himself, maybe make it more to his liking."

Alfred nodded and handed Bruce his headset. "I think he'd like that, Master Bruce."

"You're…fine, right? With letting him stay?"

"Quite."

Bruce smiled. "Okay then." He slid his mask onto his face and cleared his mind. Time to be Batman.

-0-

It's overcast on Saturday when Bruce prods Charlie out of the house for a walk around the grounds. It was more like prodding-by-proxy, because it was Alfred who had strongly suggested that Charlie get some air, but Bruce had agreed and so had handed Charlie a coat and said they were going for a walk.

The weather's not the best-one of those times where the threat of rain looms overhead and not even the forecaster knows if it'll rain for sure. Bruce has an umbrella in his pocket just in case.

"You settling in okay?" he asked, bumping shoulders with Charlie.

Charlie glanced over at him and nodded. "Yeah."

"Did you decide whether or not you're going to switch rooms?"

"I might take the one at the end, if that's okay," Charlie answered.

Bruce nodded. "Of course." He kicked at a rock as they passed it. "So tell me something about yourself. You went to college?"

"Yeah, I just got my Master's," Charlie told him. "In computer science."

"Computer science?" Bruce asked, surprised. "Really? What's your undergrad in?"

"I double majored in computer science and, uh, political science."

"That's…" Bruce trailed off.

"An interesting mix?" Charlie asked with a soft laugh. "I get that a lot. I'm good with a computer, you know? Always have been. But politics interested me, so I figured why not? I interned at the state Supreme Court two summers in a row and I worked in the State Senate's office for the past two years."

"That's where you were when you decided…"

"To off myself?" Charlie finished casually. "Yeah. I'd just quit. It was… I love political science, you know? Figuring out how governments work and why they fail and that sort of thing, but politics, actual politics… That's a whole different ball game. Everyone lied, all the time. Politicians were dirty, cops were dirty, judges were dirty. The whole system is just so messed up, man. And, like, this is my country, you know? My state? These are the people who are supposed to represent me, look out for me, and instead they'd sell me out to make a profit. It just, I couldn't take it anymore."

"Is that why you…?" Bruce asked delicately.

Charlie shrugged. "Probably part of it. The rest is just… Man, I don't even know. It just all got to me one day. I had no one, you know? No family, no friends. I woke up and wondered how this could be my life. How I could be working for a system I didn't even believe in anymore, and it was just too much. I tried to push it away, to keep going, but every day just got harder and harder. And no one would miss me, you know? Someone else can file papers and take phone calls. I wasn't doing anything that made any kind of difference."

"Does life only matter is someone would miss you when you're gone?" Bruce posed. "Does it only matter if you're making a difference?"

"I think so," Charlie answered. "I mean, otherwise, why live it, you know?"

Bruce nodded. "So why did you go into politics? Why not something with computers?"

"I figure it'd be like asking a painter to do math just because he's good at it. I mean, I know it's a weird passion to have, but I really liked it. It just didn't turn out the way I thought it would."

"Would you ever go back?"

"No," Charlie whispered. "I think that part of my life is over and done with."

"As long as the rest of your life isn't," Bruce said gently. "I'm okay with that."

Charlie let out a short laugh. "I think I'm okay with life, for now at least."

"Hey, should we… I mean, do you have a computer? We can go get you one."

"Yeah?" Charlie asked shyly. "I've kind of missed having one."

"We'll go tomorrow," Bruce said. "That work for you?"

"Definitely," Charlie said with a smile. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

-0-


End file.
